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There were some things, of course, that Narikopolus knew to do immediately. He had his men drag the Asmodean altars and relics from the temple in Kantaria. What was valuable, they melted down or broke apart for materials; the Disciplines and other books, they burnt. The secondary altars, they pulled out and set under new roofs, shielded from rain but open to the air, no longer subservient to Asmodeus. The temple had Erastil, Pharasma, Nethys, Abadar, Desna, and Gorum. No Iomedae - never Iomedae, not even in Menador. Especially not in Menador. He would correct that, and give her the highest place of honor in Kantaria, returning her to where she belonged. He drew up plans for a glorious new temple, to replace the Asmodean horror.
He had burnt half his family's clothing. He had not thought to give it away, though many of the pieces could have been re-tailored not to look infernal. New pieces were commissioned in red and white - and, to be fair, most other colors that weren't black, though reds by themselves were mostly a no. Armor they simply repainted. The house had to be redecorated, of course. Out with any decor that depicted or suggested hell; in with angels, swords, and sunlight. The castle chapel had, of course, been to Asmodeus alone. He considered building a completely new one, but that would take time, so as an interim measure they redecorated the old one to be Iomedae's. Erastil and Abadar got secondary shrines, but only once Narikopolus was sure that the new regime liked them, and was not holding hell's particular tolerance against them.
The women went through the children's rooms and took out everything that seemed suspect. Any books that praised, or depicted, or suggested hell. Carved wooden devils, and hellknight figures for good measure. His four-year-old daughter's favorite princess doll was burnt and replaced with a new one, and she threw such a fit about it that his wife had to beat her severely. Had anyone cared, they could have salvaged the specific doll - given it a new dress, and told the child to call it by a new name. It wouldn't have to mean that she was a different person than before. Three of his family members had new first names, and more, including him, were changing other pieces. There was no pretending about what his name had been, of course; he had signed a thousand documents with it. All the same, he couldn't keep using it.
The archmage Naima - famously very concerned with appearances, who came to Kantaria wearing a brilliantly embroidered sunset-colored dress decorated with dancing phoenixes - had simply looked pitying, when he told her about his temple plans. As if he were a child who supposed a crown had the power to make someone a king, confusing symbols for substance. Iomedae is a practical goddess, and approaches that end as you approach the defense of your march. She cares about results, not aesthetics.
She had advised him to ask for help from Lastwall, and so he had.
On the day that help arrives, there is a half-orc man nailed to a tall post in Kantaria's public square, slowly suffocating to death as his weight drags down on his dislocated arms. A handful of little boys are throwing rocks at him.
